


The Adventure of Kim

by Minutepen



Category: Fantasy - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood and Gore, Dogboy, Fae & Fairies, Fantasy, Gen, Good Doc Bad Doc, Hospitaller, Humor, Knight, MYAH!, Mages, Magic, Manticore, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Old Man, POV Second Person, Sass, Tsunderes, epic journey, pop culture references, with valuable shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-07-24 12:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16175264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutepen/pseuds/Minutepen
Summary: Delve into the lore of the Land as you, a brave young adventurer, and your motley crew of lovable[?] compatriots quest for answers and, in the process, maybe unravel the world as you know it.





	1. Meeting an Old Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a greater personal project that I just wanted more feedback on. No clue if anyone will actually read it, (Or find it, for that matter) so this is more of an experiment than anything else. But any constructive criticisms are certainly welcome, and I'll upload more chapters if this pans out well enough. (And if people want more)  
> P.S. Landmarks have names, but people just refer to the world literally as "The Land."

The warm rays of the afternoon summer sun drift through the green, leafy canopy of the trees as you stroll through the forest in the search of your next destination, Platelet Town. It’s been a few days since you last slept in a real bed, but for a hardy adventurer like you, seeing the stars every night beats a hay-stuffed mattress any time.  


Pushing aside some bushes in your way, you fail to notice there is actually a short drop-off. Before you can correct yourself, you trip on an exposed tree root at the top of the ledge, causing you to fall to the forest floor below. You let out a small “Oof!” when you hit the ground, briefly breaking the tranquility of the nature around you. But soon the sounds of unseen birds and small chattering forest critters return, leaving you to pull yourself up.  


Luckily, a bed of dead leaves cushioned the final destination of your descent, so you’re no worse for wear. Still, you take a moment to give yourself a good look-over as you pat off dust.  


You are what you have come to call yourself a quarterling, a humanoid roughly 1 ½ feet tall, or just barely a fourth the height of an average human. Even creatures such as goblins and redcaps seem to have a leg up on you (Perhaps your dwarven mother and gnomish father are to blame). But with what you lack in height you make up for in incredible, yet unexplainable, strength. You could easily bust a man’s kneecaps in backward with a good roundhouse kick.  


For when you can’t kill with your fists of feet, you can choose to go stabby-stabby with your dagger (which given your shortness might as well be a great-sword) that you have cutely named ‘Pussy-Destroyer’. Your leather and chainmail weave armor give you decent protection, covering your soft bley-colored skin perfectly. After tucking some of your platinum blonde hair behind a pointed ear, you stand up and set out again towards your destination.  


As you continue to make your way through the underbrush, the peace of the forest is suddenly broken again, this time by the sounds of what might be an old man calling for help. While rushing into action is a tried-and-true method of the adventurer, you know from experience that the forest is home to all kinds of deceiving creatures, so you instead keep low as you crawl in the direction you heard the noise, your pointy ears on the alert.  


“Myah, I’m an old man with valuable shit who’s calling for help!”  


Yep, definitely sounds like somebody with valuable shit who could use your help! You unsheathe your dagger and rush through the underbrush, tracking down where the sounds of elderly anguish are coming from.  


Bursting through into a clearing in the forest, you are startled to encounter a tall, slender, bipedal lizard with a striking white hide. It’s poised to bite down into what is, in fact, a quivering old man, who at this point is desperately trying to protect himself by hiding beneath a traveler’s cloak.  


Noticing your presence, the creature looks up from what was going to be its meal to stare you down with a pair of piercing, predatory slits you swear are reaching into your thoughts. It then circles around in front of its prey before rearing its head back and giving off the most terrifying screech.  


“PRETTY LITTLE FEMUR SITTING IN MY CHERRY DREAM BOAT!!”  


There’s no mistaking it. You are facing off with a velocirapper, one of the forest’s fiercest predators! Rotating Josh into optimal stabbing position, you balance on the balls of your feet, coiled like a dangerous Slinky© (unexpectant and deadly), and prepare to strike.  


With a loud cry of “HERE I COME, CONSTANTINOPLE!!” the velocirapper lunges forward, its maw opening to expose rows of flesh-ripping teeth. Unfazed, you dodge the oncoming attack by barrel-rolling between the beast’s legs, making sure to stab your blade into its soft underbelly, leaving a searing gash that trickles with crimson blood. The velocirapper lets out a pained scream.  


“JE-SUS WALKS!!”  


In a rage fueled by murderous pain, the creature whips around, slamming its tail into your chest and sending you sprawling into the dirt. You fly head over heels, leaving with you ass indignantly in the air. The lizard gives an unintellectual sound akin to laughter at the sight of your misfortune.  


“YOU THINK THAT’S FUNNY?!” you yell as you get back up, eyes alight with metaphorical fire. All the velocirapper does is crouch in a mocking stance that reads “Come at me, bro.” And you certainly do. Running forward, you leap aside from its snapping jaws to spin around, just barely grappling the tip of its tail. Summoning your unexplainable strength, you pull.  


Lifting the velocirapper off the ground, it screams “DOWN THE ANAL STAIRCASE!!” in pain as you begin to spin it around by its tail. After nearly two full rotations, you spin towards a tree which you then slam the lizard’s neck into, causing an audible snap to echo through the clearing. The beast falls to the ground, whispering “Goodbye, moon-man” with its dying breath.  


You stand triumphant over you kill, caked in dirt and vile-smelling blood, grinning the grin of someone graduating from virginity. You take a moment to soak in your victory.  


“Why thank you, kind stranger,” chirps up a voice from behind you. “I was helpless in the face of that creature!”  


Oh right, you were helping somebody! You turn around to see the elder attempting to right himself back up. You walk over and offer a hand, which he graciously accepts. Pulling him up, you finally get a good look at the person you rescued from the shadow of death.  


He is certainly an old man, standing at about 2 ½ feet tall and has a very kind, almost grandfatherly, face. He has a jolly red nose that peeks over a bushy gray beard, while a pair of milky-blue eyes peers from behind half-moon spectacles. His cloak covers his head, but you can make out wisps of gray hair sticking out from underneath. He’s carrying a BIG backpack for someone of his stature. There’s definitely a lot of stuff in there.  


“And what can I call my savior?” he asks inquisitively.  


You introduce yourself. “Kimchi Lions. Kim for short.” You then go on to ask the obvious question as to why he’s out here and what happened to him.  


“Well, Kim,” starts the old man. “My name is Joseph the Jeweler, and I’m a traveling merchant. As you can guess, I sell jewelry, both decorative and enchanted. I was trying to find my way out of this forest here, but I deadly suffer from the curse called old age, so it gets harder to navigate through places such as this.” He gestures to the forest around the two of you before continuing to explain.  


“And because I am an old man, I was course targeted by a vicious predator hoping to get an easy meal,” he says, now gesturing to the corpse of the velocirapper (something a normal person would definitely take more notice of, but apparently not Joseph). “But thankfully my cries for help were answered by you, a heroic…er…cave…elf?”  


It’s obvious that Joseph has not encountered someone like you, and it’s equally obvious he’s trying his best to not be hurtful about it. You brush off his confusion with a defusing chuckle, saying that you often get reactions like his when people first meet you. You quickly explain what you are to the old man, and he gives you an understanding nod.  


“I see, thank you. It’s not every day I meet a quarterling, let alone saved from certain doom by one,” he says with a glint of youthfulness from beneath his beard. You smile and ask what Joseph plans to do now. “Well,” putting his hands on his hips. “I guess I will continue to try and find the next town. And I need to do so as quickly as possible,” he said, his tone now having a nervous undertone.  


You frown. Him, getting to the next town? Alone? He’s already been attacked once, you know it’ll happen again if he’s not careful. Hell, it’s a miracle he’s survived this long. You tell Joseph this, being the frank person that you are, and he frowns as well. “Yes, I was afraid of that.” He looks down at his feet, but his head soon shoots back up.  


“I know! You’re an adventurous type! Why don’t you guide me to the next town?” He points over at the velocirapper corpse again. “You really did a nickel-taphouse on that beastie. I bet you’d be a perfect bodyguard!”  
This gets you pondering, a mental coin beginning to roll across the knuckles in your head. At your pause, Joseph puts his backpack down with a “Thud!” and begins to open up the top. “Here, as an advance payment, and reward for saving me, I’ll let you pick a piece from my stock, free of charge!”  


Now THAT certainly rings music to your ears! Not one to turn down the kindness of strangers, you eagerly accept Joseph’s proposal. “Excellent!” he replies as he gets down on his knees to roll out a small rug, unveiling a literal horde of fine jewelry.  


You crouch down to get a better look at Joseph’s wares. There are pendants with large fine gemstones, bangles of undistinguishable metallurgy, earrings and piercings that seemingly capture the sunlight that shines on them, and even a diadem of the finest craftsmanship. Damn! Joseph wasn’t kidding when he said he had some valuable shit. This more looks like stuff you would have to venture into a sleeping dragon’s cave to steal than buy off from some old man. But not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you continue to browse.  


Your eyes eventually come to rest on a peculiar looking ring. Rather than having a jewel embedded in a precious metal, it seems if someone took a large gemstone and cut it into a perfect ring. And what a gem it must have been; it’s as if the ring contains a storm that surges with power, a void that you look into and it looks right back. You know this is the one.  


Joseph eyes you tentatively as you hesitantly pick up and slip the ring gingerly around your right ring finger. Suddenly, your blood begins to accelerate, virtual torrents barely contained by your veins and arteries. It pulses through your body, from your brain to your crotch, in powerful waves. You feel like you could take down someone WAY bigger than you, or at least somehow end up fucking them to death. You do a double take as Joseph appraises your selection.  


“Ah, I see you were drawn to a Demurian ring. A powerful accessory, I must say. Such jewelry is popular among the dark elves and succubi for…obvious reasons. It’s stronger than adrenaline, so don’t let it get too much to your head!” He waggles his finger in a way a scholar might warn a favorite student before rolling up the remaining jewelry. As you finish recovering from your blood rush, you find that Joseph has finished packing, and already shouldering his backpack. He looks at you, looking for direction.  


“So, what do you suggest now Kim?” he asks. You pause, then realize just how awful you smell. God, how did you not notice it before? You conclude that you and Joseph should find a river or stream to make camp next to. You need to distance yourselves from the clearing while there’s still light out since larger nocturnal predators will be lured by the smell of dead velocirapper, and because you would like to wash all traces of said dead velocirapper from your persons.  


“Alright,” Joseph says. “Sounds like a plan. Lead the way!”  


Oh, right, you think. You still have to find a river or stream. Eh, oh well. You hope there’s one around close by…  
***  


Fortunately, fate smiles upon you and you do eventually find a river. You quickly set up camp. It’s a small affair. Both you and Joseph each have a bedroll, and you dig a small pit to start a fire in. You also manage to wash the dirt-caked reptile blood from your skin and clothes after a dip in the river. The water is cold, but you don’t care, you just want to be clean. After drying off (with Joseph graciously giving you some privacy the whole time) and redressing yourself, you set about cooking dinner. You have some dried meat and bread in your bag, which pairs nicely with some of the cheese that Joseph packed (naturally, you two share your provisions). Soon, you’re reminded of a favorite song, which you begin to hum between mouthfuls of food.  


“What an interesting tune you’re humming,” Joseph says from across the campfire. You’re startled a bit. How could he possibly hear it, you ask him?  


Grinning a child-like grin, he pulls back some of his salt-and-pepper hair to show you that his ears are pierced with simple pearl. “Vanite earrings,” he says. “They help me gain back some of the senses I’ve lost. I can hear when someone’s behind me, but can’t do anything beyond that. Now about that song…”  


You explain to him it’s from a historical drama from your homeland about heroes smiting the forces of darkness. You sing some of the lyrics, and soon the two of you are crying vulgar calls of liberation and freedom long into the night. When the campfire is nothing more than crackling embers, you both say goodnight and turn in, resting for the day ahead.


	2. Doctor, Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you and Joseph meet some men of science, reputable and not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to go ahead and post the next chapter. Hope people like it. I'll keep posting chapters when I can.

You rise up in the early morning, your nap sack damp with morning dew. Sitting up, you notice Joseph is still asleep. You smirk as you get up, walking over to the sleeping old man and gently jostling him.  


“5 more minutes,” he mumbles, trying to avoid your pushing.  


You apologize, saying that if he wanted 5 more minutes of sleep, he should have gone to bed 5 minutes earlier. Realizing he’s fighting a losing battle, he sits up on his elbows, his old-man bones protesting with audible pops and cracks.  


“Myah, don’t you know we old people need time to rise?” he says jokingly. You smile, rolling up your bed. You say your parents taught you to take care of yourself, not others.  


“Then who taught you to be kind to strangers?” he asks. At this you pause, before returning to rolling your bedroll. “I did. Everyone hates on us little guys, so I vowed to be better than them. That way, when I die, anyone who hears people talking shit about me will know they can go fuck themselves”  


Joseph muses over this before responding. “That’s mighty admirable of you, Kim. Not many people are willing to commit to such a purpose.”  


Your smile grows wider at that, grateful to receive some praise in your mostly thankless personal pursuit. You quickly finish packing your side of the camp and begin shoveling dirt over the camp’s fire pit. Joseph is now fully awake and rolling up his bedroll. It’s then that you remember something. You ask him why he seemed so desperate to find a town. It was only for a minute, but you definitely noticed his anxiety over it yesterday.  


Joseph freezes. He glances over at you, his face plastered with a look of worry and fear. “Yes…well…perhaps I can explain. Though it might be easier to show than tell.” He starts digging deep into his bag, retrieving a bundle of brown cloth.  


Your interest peaked, you hobble over to get a better look. Joseph gently pulls back the cloth, and you are immediately struck by a wave of pure energy. Within the swaddle is an orb of the darkest amber, not necessarily clear, but translucent enough for you to see a swirling cloud inside. It’s as if there’s a perfectly-shaped smoke bubble trapped inside a hard candy shell. You can hardly break your gaze, until Joseph gingerly reaches out his hand, delicately placing it on the orb. He then gestures for you to do the same.  


“Please…your hand.”  


You play a skeptical look. Joseph bobs his head a little with a reassuring nod. “It won’t hurt, I promise,” he says. “Trust me.”  


Still not entirely convinced, you stretch out your hand, your fingertips gracing the orb’s surface. Almost immediately upon touching his hand, you feel something. 

Thump-thump, thump-thump.  


A heartbeat.  


You quickly pull your hand away, clutching it close to your chest. Joseph wraps the orb up and buries it again inside his backpack. “You probably noticed yesterday when you selected that ring I also have one or two pieces that your typical jeweler would never have.”  


You raise an eyebrow. Did he steal any of them?  


“No, of course not,” says Joseph, waving a hand dismissively. “Do you honestly think I could get away from stealing somebody’s crown jewels? I am just an old man, after all.”  


You say you’re not one to judge everybody by their looks. Joseph chuckles at that. “A good quality to have. And you wouldn’t be wrong.”  


So, he did steal some of them? “I don’t steal,” he replies, sharply. “Stealing is for thieves. I am more of a…dungeon delver.”  


Dungeon delving? That’s a pretty dangerous way to earn a living, sometimes more so than journeying alone in a forest such as this. “Well,” Joseph continues as he finishes packing his bag, “not if you’re careful of where you dive. I’ve been doing this for years, much longer than you’ve probably been alive.  


That still doesn’t answer your question about why he needs to find a town so quickly, you tell him. Joseph sighs. “I may be a veteran at my trade, but sometimes even we old folk get in over our heads.” He gestures towards his pack, now shouldered on his back.  


“That orb, I’ve never seen anything like it. I can’t sell it. I wouldn’t trust any person who would be interested in buying it. No, I need to find somebody who can tell me what it is. I’ve already been to some of the shadier towns, Grimm Hollow, Styx, the like. Can’t find anybody. I’m hoping somebody in the next town can provide me with some answers. Come to think of it, what town are you guiding us to, anyway?”  


What, Platelet Town? It’s nothing special. Mostly a crossroads for adventures than an actual town, but it has suspended the belief that it’s nothing more than really just an inn and a couple other commercial buildings by allowing a number of caravans and semi-permanent markets to constantly set up shop around it.  


“Yes,” says Joseph, stroking his whiskers. “Perhaps one of you adventure-seekers will be able to answer my questions.” With that, he tucks his thumbs into the hardy leather straps of his bag, making it clear he would like to be your way.”  


“Lead the way, Kim. Platelet Town awaits.”  
***  


Your journey through the rest of the forest is, thankfully, free from any dangerous sort of encounters. Every now and then you do pause to let a shrub fox or black boar cross your path, but they hardly pay you two any attention. More than once you have to help Joseph down any incline you come across, not wanting the old man to hurt himself. He often thanks you for being his guide/guard, saying his trip would be taking much longer without your assistance. You continue to enjoy the praise, as usual.  


Eventually, you reach the edge of the forest. Before you, stretching for miles on end, are hills of green grassland juxtaposed by a bright blue sky dotted by wisps of clouds. A gentle breeze blows, sending rippling waves through the rolling, green fields. The sight is breathtaking, and you and Joseph take a minute together to enjoy this new change of scenery.  


“This land,” says Joseph. “It truly is beautiful.”  


You have to agree with him there. You’ve been on your own for at least 3 years now, and yet you still get surprised about how the world can capture you, even if you’ve seen it before.  


When the moment passes, the two of you begin making your way through the high grass. In an odd twist of fate, Joseph is the more useful one, as you are just a bit too short to see your way clearly enough above the grasses. He serves as a human lookout tower, peering over the grasses. With his help, you’re able to spy a windmill, its sails spinning in the calm wind, and it’s not long afterward you then find yourselves at a path leading to a well-trod dirt road.  


“Now, which direction do we go?” Joseph asks. “Left, or right?”  


Referencing your mental map, you say Platelet town lies to the east, which means that you should head left. Whether this road actually leads there is another question entirely, but you can only hope it does.  


After a few hours walking down the path, passing more windmills and the occasional flock of sheep, you’re beginning to think that maybe you went the wrong way. Before you breach the topic with Joseph, you hear the sound of footsteps, ones much heavier sounding than either your or Joseph’s.  


From over the hill marches a tall figure. It wears a full suite of armor if the sound of metallic clanking wasn’t a clear indicator. Though what garners most of your attention is the massive tower-shield strapped to its back. It’s a solid piece of metal almost as tall as the person coming towards you. As it comes closer, it notices you and waves.  


“Hello!” a friendly masculine voice echoes out from within the helmet emblazoned with a red cross. “Lovely day for a walk, isn’t it?”  
Still taken a bit aback by such a friendly approach for a stranger, Joseph speaks up from behind you.  


“Yes, quite indeed. I have never seen this part of the country before.”  


From looking him over, you can only guess that the man inside the armor is at least 6 foot, towering over you and Joseph. It’s hard to establish any other distinguishing features besides the red scarf around the man’s neck piece and his simple leather satchel with so much body coverage. You do note however that he appears unarmed, as his massive shield seems to be the only accessory he would use should he fall in a scrap.  
He seems to notice your curious staring, and you’re quick to look away, apologizing.  


“It’s quite alright. If fair is fair, then I was staring too, though more covert.” He pats his helmet. “Not every day that I meet someone of your height if it’s not so rude for me to say so.”  


You say not at all, you get it all the time. As you finish, the man reaches his gloved hands up to his helmet, giving it a twist, first left, the right, until popping it off with a clink.  


The man under the armor has a fair complexion with short, mousy brown curls for hair, a lock hanging across his forehead. He has piercing whites in his eyes, accentuated by green pupils. A light mustache crosses his lip, while a thin and well-kept beard clings to his lower jawline.  


“So, I guess the two-foot old man isn’t anything special, ain’t he?” you hear Joseph complain.  


The man chuckles. “‘In this world of ours, even nothing is inescapable from certain change.’—Lucien Coil”  


“A Guide to the Nature of Things,” Joseph says, impressed. “Well, aren’t you a scholar, Mr.…?”  


“Andrew, Andrew Paine, and you could say I’ve read a thing or two.” He pats the helmet he now cradles in his arm. “I’m a Hospitaller, after all.”  


Ah, a Hospitaller, you say. The order of knights who serve as healers rather than fighters like their Crusader brethren. You withhold your comment about the irony of his last name given his profession, guessing he’s heard ones like it as many times as people have asked about your height.  


“Yes. I’m currently staying in Platelet Town at the apothecary I spent my apprenticeship at. I’m just returning from running a few errands for my former master.”  


Platelet Town? That’s where you’re headed! You ask Andrew if the town is close by.  


“Yeah, but not in the way you’re going.” Pointing over your shoulders “Platelet Town is that way.”  


Behind you? That means you were lost after all, and all your walking was in vain! You feel like you’re about to collapse, and Joseph doesn’t seem happy either.  


“Now hang on,” Andrew says, noticing your sudden change in disposition. “It’s certainly not that far of a walk! And besides, all these hills and fields can look the same to even experienced travelers. Look, I was heading back into town anyway. I’ll lead you guys there!”  


Giving a small sigh, you accept his offer and the three of you begin your way to Platelet Town, this time in the right direction.  


“So, what business do you have in Platelet Town?” Andrew asks, try to start a conversation.  


You explain you were journeying there to gather more supplies when you ran into Joseph in a sticky situation. Joseph then explains how he hired you as a bodyguard and seeking answers regarding the orb he’s found. He excludes some of the more arcane details, probably for security’s sake, but you don’t argue with. 

You’ve only just met this Andrew character, and you’re not entirely sure you can trust him.  


“Hmm…you might be in luck,” says Andrew. “I may be a practitioner of modern medicine, but my master…” His face furrows. “…is a bit more old-fashioned, shall we say.”  


“That’s wonderful news!” Joseph says excitedly.  


“Yes, it is for you. But unfortunately, he’s earned a sort of a bad reputation in town. On more than one occasion, I’ve had things thrown at me in the marketplace, with people calling me a cultist.” Andrew practically shivers at the word ‘cultist’.  


Joseph frowns, and you reach up to pat Andrew’s shield. You say you’ve met cultists, and he seems much nicer than them. (Then again, you had interrupted their blood sacrifice, but they were psychotic, to begin with)  


Andrew laughs a bit. “Thanks, Kim.”  


You smile, and the three of you continue back down the road.  
***  


When you reach the outskirts of Platelet Town, the afternoon sun is beginning to wane into the evening sky. As you know, Platelet Town isn’t really a town. But within the growing labyrinth of tents, yurts, and stalls, there is a small settlement with a defensible wall constructed from tall, sharpened wooden logs. A small portcullis serves as the main entrance, which you easily pass through, partially because the guards seem to recognize Andrew, but more likely because they simply don’t think either you or Joesph look very threatening.  


Making your way into the town proper, Andrew begins leading you past houses and storefronts. The smells of cooked food, smoke, and earth seep into your nose. It’s almost overwhelming, given how cramped you are for space: the street is swarming with people of all races. Orc mothers chatting with each other as their children play, centaurs hauling carts full of exotic goods, and plenty of normal humans milling about the various shops.  


After passing another stall selling god-only-knows, Andrew then makes a sharp turn, darting in between two buildings. You exchange a look with Joseph, who shrugs. You both make your way down the alleyway. There’s practically no visibility, as the roofs of the two buildings mesh together, blocking out any sunlight. You nearly trip over a few stones and a rubbish bin, but you manage to press on.  


What you thought was an alleyway to another road turns out to lead into a small, sequestered courtyard surrounded by other buildings. Only here does the sunlight shine through, illuminating a brick building covered in crawling ivy. A green wooden door is its only other distinguishing feature on the otherwise bland facade. Andrew’s standing at the doorway, fiddling with a set of keys.  


“Shed...bathroom...fluid cabinet...ah, here we are!” Selecting a rather long skeleton key, he inserts it into the door’s lock. After a twist of hand, he opens the door.  


“Well, come on then, you’ve come this far!” Andrew says, turning to you and Joseph. Following his words, you both are ushered inside.  


“Master Sinoe, I’m back, and I brought guests!” Andrew cries out into the room. Gods, it just as dark as the alleyway! How does Andrew not perpetually go blind whenever he steps outside? But before you ask, a light suddenly fills the room. You squint for a second, then, slowly, your eyes adjust to see Andrew has turned on some sort of ceiling light, though now he seems to have disappeared into another adjacent room, leaving you and Joseph alone. At least now you can get a get a better look at the room you’re in.  


The room is filled wall to wall, floor to ceiling with shelves of jars of all shapes, colors, and sizes. Moving closer, you see that each one is labeled with a paper tag in an indiscernible scrawl, though for some of the jars you need no description to know what’s inside; there are dead insects of all species, a jar containing literal fire, eyes that watch your every move, and, of course, live leeches. You’re starting to wonder whether the townsfolk were right about the cult stuff…  


“Interested in purchasing something, miss?” comes a muffled voice.  


You turn around and your heart nearly stops at the figure who is right behind you. How the FUCK did he sneak up on you?! You bolster yourself against a shelf before you get a better look at the creep.  


Almost as tall as Andrew, he is dressed like a plague doctor of old, his outfit complete with purple, body length robes, a black wide-brimmed hat, and a bone-white mask with a hawkish beak. He also wears a pair of fine black leather gloves, his hands writhing with eagerness at the possible intent of making a sale. A small set of pouches hang from the belt around his waist, though you try not to stare at the long curved pair of shears also hanging from it.  


Yep, this man has to be a cult leader!  


“How about you, sir?” the man says, turning to Joseph, who seems just as terrified, if not ready to die of fright. “Can I interest you in some Arabacus cafficus?”  


Before either of you decide to book it the hell out of there, Andrew’s voice comes out from behind the long wooden counter that takes up most of the side of the room opposite the doorway.  


“Master Sinoe, there you are!” He pushes through a small door in the counter to join the three of you. He out of his armor now, now wearing a white shirt and canvas pants, as well as a pair of glasses on his face.  


Looking at your and Joseph’s faces, Andrew puts a hand on his hip while pinching the bridge of his nose with the other, his eyes closing. “No, don’t tell me. He did the thing where he appears right behind you?” You both nod your heads vigorously, keeping your eyes on this ‘Master Sinoe’ as if he could disappear the next time either of you blinks.  


Andrew sighs. “Master, you can’t keep doing that when people come in the shop! You know it scares them!”  


“Yes, I know,” the man says with no guilt at all, “but at my age, it’s the little things that can amuse you. Giving people a good shock now and again is simply my preferred coping mechanism.”  


Joseph quickly retorts this. “Myah, well at my age, getting a good shock now and again is a good way of getting yourself a trip from an actual doctor!”  


Master Sinoe’s head spins so sharply towards Joseph that you swear you hear his neck make an audible cracking noise. “Oh dear, oh dear,” he says nonchalantly, walking slowly towards Joseph. “If you’re so close to Lady Death’s door like you say you are, well then I might have to book you in for an appointment.” He says that last word an octave lower, and his approach has forced Joseph up against the counter. “For your health, that is.”  


You rush over in attack position, making sure that Sinoe gets a good look at your hands gripping your dagger when you reach your elderly friend’s side. For a moment, there’s a tense stare-down, but, fortunately, Andrew Comes to diffuse the scenario.  


“Now, now, everyone, let’s not have a tussle or anything,” Andrew says, putting a hand on his former teacher’s shoulder. “Master, these people have come a long way, and I told them that you might be able to help them with a problem they have.”  
Sinoe’s head moves to look up at Andrew, then backs off, sighing. “Fine,” he says, crossing his arms. “But who exactly are these people in my apothecary?”  


Gesturing at the two of you, Andrew introduces you and Joseph, briefing Sinoe on how he met you two while running errands and about Joseph’s quest for answers regarding the orb.  


“Hmm, an… orb you say?” he says in his muffled voice. “Sounds more magical than alchemical or medicinal to me. What made you think I would know anything about it?”  


“Come on Master, at least look at it!”  


If you could see his face, you’re sure that Sinoe would be smirking or rolling his eyes. Rather than replying, he extends out one of his hands towards Joseph. Interpreting this, Joseph unshoulders his pack, digging through it until he retrieves a familiar bundle of cloth.  


Holding it out, Sinoe uses both hands to carefully take it from Joseph, walking over to the counter and placing it down. With seemingly practiced movements, he pulls apart the cloth wrapping, like a specimen on a dissection table. It’s not long until the same wave of energy you felt before is released, causing memories of when you touched the orb to come flooding back into your mind.  


The room is silent, the presence of the orb too strong for conversation. Andrew does manage to move over next to Sinoe to get a better look at the orb, having not seen it himself yet.  


Seconds that feel like hours pass. Sinoe then gently reaches out a gloved hand and places it out on the polished object before him. You can just hear a sharp intake of breath; he must have felt it too, the heartbeat. Andrew looks over to him, a face of concern growing on his face, before reaching towards the orb himself.  


In a blur of movement, Sinoe removes his hand from the orb, grabs Andrew’s with his other, and covers the orb back up. Andrew is stunned, as are you and Joseph, all of you feeling the wave of energy recede back into the loose cloth covering the orb inside. But before any of you can say anything else, Sinoe speaks, his voice finally slicing through the silence the orb commanded.  


“Mr. Joseph, I do not know where or how you came across this, and to be honest, I do not want to know.” He turns his head, his hand still gripping Andrew’s tightly. “I was right to assume this was not in my area of expertise, unfortunately. But, I can tell you that whatever this thing is, it is pure EVIL.”  


Letting go of Andrew’s hand, he fully re-wraps the orb into its bundle and, with great care, picks it up and hands it over to Joseph. He takes it, and whilst returning it to his pack, Sinoe speaks up again.  


“I’m sorry that I don’t have the answers you. I can tell that you already knew to be wary of it. But now you know that maybe you shouldn’t know what it is.” Joseph looks up at Sinoe, and then down at the floor.”  


You can’t stand the atmosphere in the room “If it’s so bad, why don’t we take it out right now and smash the damn thing with a hammer or something?”  


“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Kim,” says Andrew, his hand now on his chin. “Master Sinoe may not know what it is, but if it’s bad as I think he says it is, then breaking it could unleash a whole load of trouble.”  


“Well, what can we do with it?” says Joseph, finally joining the conversation. “I don’t want something like this living in my backpack forever!”  


Turning back to Joseph again, Sinoe replies, only this time with less malice. “My advice?” he says with a warning, cautious tone. “Put it back where you found it, and never look back.”


	3. Street Fighters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a good day for a swell battle!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah two chapters in one day? Minutepen must be procrastinating on something actually important.

You and Joseph exit the cramped atmosphere of the apothecary, once again basking again in natural sunlight, or what’s left of it, seeing as the sun is now beginning to set. You sigh, sitting down on the building’s front step, resting your head in your hands  


“Don’t get too upset, Kim,” says Joseph, reaching down to put a comforting hand on your shoulder. “It should be I who should be down. You just came along as a guide. You had no obligation to help me beyond getting me here.”  


You exhale again. Yo tell him thanks, but that you enjoy a good adventure, and Joseph should have known better than hiring an adventurer like you if you were expected to work just as a tour guide.  


Joseph smirks. “I guess I am guilty of that.” Now it’s your turn to chuckle a bit.  


The wooden door behind you opens. Andrew walks out, still in his casual clothes, and closes the door behind him. “Hey you guys, I’m sorry that you came all this way just to have someone say ‘Turn around’” he says, apologetically.  


You say there’s nothing to be sorry about, though you are left with no clear direction.  


“Well, why not just return the orb?” Andrew asked questioningly. “I know he can be a bit off-putting, but Master Sinoe’s advice sounded pretty good in my opinion.”  


You admit that if destroying the orb isn’t an option, hiding it would be the next best thing, but Joseph seems hesitant with the idea.  


“No, no going back is too dangerous. Too dangerous indeed.”  


You turn to Joseph, asking him if he’s scared. What kind of place did he even find the orb, anyway? You don’t ever remember him regaling that crucial bit of information with you.  


“Myah, I...uh…”Joseph stammers lost for words.  


You tell him you just want to help him. Joseph tries replying, but he’s soon interrupted by a cry that ricochets down the alleyway.  


“KYAHH! Somebody, help!”  


Standing up, your ears pivoting in the direction the sound. It sounds much younger than when you ran to rescue Joseph. A maiden in distress, perhaps? That’s exactly in your job description! You rush down the alley, leaving Joseph and Andrew behind. You may be short, but you’re quick!  


Shooting from between the two buildings, you spear through a crowd gathering in the street. Once past them, you find the source of the cry: a young man in dark navy robes and pointy hat, held by the scruff of his neck by a cave troll, its slack jaw in a twisted grin, displaying a mouth of jagged teeth.  


“Aw come on, kid, me an’ my companions only wanna conduct some business. Ain’t I right, Wetzel?”  


He’s addressing a lithe, olive-skinned man in leather armor, a quiver on his back and short-bow in hand. “That’s right, Tug. And we can’t conduct business if you don’t cooperate.”  


“Boys, pleassse,” comes a hissing noise from behind Tug. A naga rises up, propelled by her muscular lower body, bringing her chest above the helpless young man’s face. Her cobra-like hood eclipses him in shadow. “Try not to hurt our newessst companion.” She extends a scaley claw to scratch beneath his chin. “Besides,” she says with a wicked smile inching across her face, a forked tongue darting from between her thin lips, “thisss one’s a cutie!”  


You can almost hear the boy swallow as he struggles.  


“Let Akita go, you bastards!” a high-pitched voice shrieks over the murmur of the crowd. Whizzing out from under the man apparently named Akita’s pointed hat comes a light blue speck that bops the naga on the nose.  


“Ouch!”, exclaims the tall snake-woman, who responds with a forceful slap at the speck. It dodges her left hand, but not her right, which sends it rocketing away…  


...right into your face.  


“Ow, damnit that hurt!” cries the thing, now on your face.  


“Tiki!” Akita cries out, looking like he’s on the verge of tears.  


Reaching up, you peel the thing off and hold it out to find that ‘Tiki’ is, in fact, a fairy. She looks like a small woman, but with blue hair and light blue skin. Hell, even her dragonfly-esque wings are tinted blue.  


Noticing your stare, the small fae screams out a “Hey, sister, could you let me go? I don’t know who you are, but I’ve got somebody to save.”  


You smirk. Funny, you say to her. You were just about to do that too. With that, you drop her and lunge out from the crowd.  


“No!” you hear Tiki yell. “I meant I was gonna...AUGH!” She shuts up and zips over your head.  


“Hey, asshats!” you yell at the posse of people surrounding your target. “I don’t think your business is appreciated anymore, so why not drop the boy and move along?”  


You try your best to make the best intimidating stance a 1 ½ foot quarterling can make, but all you get are laughs from the thugs.”  


“And, I guess you’ll teach us a lesson if we don’t?” Wetzel says in a mocking tone. “You hear what she said, Mal?”  


“Yes, how sssimply adorable,” the naga purs. “But I would run along home, little girl. Your mother isss certainly worried about you!”  


Little girl?  


She did not just call you a Little FUCKING GIRL!  


Your blood begins boiling, and you unsheath your blade.  


“Aw, look, guys, I think maybe we ‘ave anotha’ ‘business partner’ here,” says Tug, reaching behind him for a studded club. “An’ I thinks it’s time we ‘ad ourselves a board meetin’!”  


The only meeting they’ll be attending is with their maker, you spout. Tug laughs, tossing Akita into the air. He yelps when begins his descent towards the ground, but he’s swept up by Mal, who coils around him like a boa constrictor.  


“Let go of him, whore!” Tiki screams, trying her best to help by flying around Mal’s head. Tiki has more of an upper hand this time, as Mal’s fleshy hood reduces her field of vision.  


“Guess that leaves you against the two of us,” says Wetzel, notching a pair of arrows onto his bow. “Let’s begin our business negotiations, shall we Tug?”  


Tug begins thumping his club in his right hand, his stone colored skin unyielding to the unintentional beating it’s getting. “Yeah, our ‘negotiations’.” He raises his club over his head and brings it crashing down, the shockwave scattering the crowd of onlookers. You easily sidestep the blow, but you have no time to rest, as you dodge two oncoming arrows. Fighting a single velocirapper is one thing, but these two thugs are a whole other chalupa to eat. Thinking fast, you use your strength to kick over a barrel next to you and push it towards the oncoming cave troll.  


Fortunately, fate smiles upon you again. When Tug predictably smashes the barrel with his club, you’re blessed with an explosion that douses the brute with frothy liquid. A good sniff confirms the all too familiar smell of dwarven mead.  


“Bloody hell!” Tug roars, the fumes from the strong alcohol surely overloading the cave toll’s sensitive nose. Temporarily disoriented, you run forward, dodging more of Wetzel’s arrows until you run in between Tug’s legs. Drawing as much strength as you can muster, you slam into Tug’s right leg, sending him toppling over.  


“Come on, little girl,” grunts Tug, who’s now using his club as a crutch. “Maybe if you quit being so rough, we can make a deal?”  


Fat chance, you say, thrusting your sword into the troll’s flank.  


Tug roars out in pain, and now blindly tries grabbing his tiny foe. In doing so, he puts more pressure on his wounded limb, and it gives out a satisfying crunch. 

Grimacing, he collapses to the ground, clutching his leg.  


But before you get a chance to relish your victory, a piercing pain erupts from your side, nearly doubling you over. Glancing down, you see an arrow embedded in your thigh. Damn, you didn’t think you could bleed this much! Looking up, you see Wetzel, a smug look on his face as he watches your pain. He’s notching back another arrow, readying the killing blow.  


“Sorry, mate,” he says in a ‘sorry not sorry’ way. “It’s just business.”  


Through gritted teeth, you manage to spit out he’s running some shitty business.  


He smiles regardless and aims his shot. You raise your blade defensively. And…  


“Myah, get wrecked, sonny!”  


There’s a zing, and Wetzel drops his bow as he grabs his shoulder, his left arm going limp.  


You can just see Joseph emerging from the alleyway wielding a crossbow. (You don’t remember him having before. Has he been packing this whole time?!) “I think I got him!” you hear him say.  


“Yes, good shot Joseph,” you hear Andrew behind him. He emerges from the dark alleyway, having donned his heavy armor once again. “Any higher and you might have killed him.”  


As Wetzel sinks to the ground, Andrew rushes over, unlatching the clasps of his bag to produce a pair of surgical shears. He quickly clips off most of the arrow’s shaft protruding from your leg before returning the scissors to his bag, drawing out a pair of tweezers. He sinks them into your wound, pinching at the arrowhead within. First, you wince, then you swear loudly as Andrew rips the remaining projectile with one quick, practiced movement.  


“Sorry, Kim,” Andrew apologizes, applying a clean cloth to your gushing wound as he reaches into his bag again. “Gotta move quickly, no time for anesthesia.” He now has a wad of gauze which he douses with an olive-colored liquid. It’s probably disinfectant. He rolls the bandage and stuffs it into the hole in your leather armor.  


“This will be sufficient until we can safely take your armor off. I’ll make sure to clean it properly then. But for now,” Andrew says, reaching into his bag again to produce a brown glass bottle (How much stuff is in that bag, you wonder). He shakes out a couple of orange tablets, which he thrusts into your hand.  


“Chew these. They’ll be enough to prevent infection for now.”  


You pop the tablets into your mouth, crunching down on them. They taste like chalk and honey, but you honestly don’t have time to be picky about flavors. You have bigger fish to fry. Speaking of which…  


“Okay children, playtime isss over,” you hear a hiss from behind you.  


You do your best to stand, turning around to see Mal towering over you. Akita is still wrapped up in her coils, but she now holds the tiny, limp figure of Tiki as well.  


“You’ve defeated my partnersss,” she sneers. “But I don’t mind. I was going to kill them myself. You only made my life easssier.”  


“FUCKING BITCH!” you hear Tug yell, only to be silenced by Joseph, who uses the butt of his new weapon to hit him on the head.  


“ANYwho,” the naga continues. “Here’sss the deal; I keep my new petsss, and I leave without a fight. Sssound good?” As if to hasten your answer, she squeezes her captives, who both cry out as their insides are crushed.  


While you formulate a response, Andrew steps up, raising his tower shield.  


“I am Andrew Paine, and as a Hospitaller of the Northern Mary, I cannot allow a person in distress to come to harm. Now please, miss,” he says, lowering his visor. “Let them go.”  


Mal purses her lips in a smile. “Oh, a doctor?” She begins slithering back and forth. “What’sss a doctor going to do, hurt me?”  
You can’t tell if Mal’s taunting is getting to Andrew, but you bet it’s making him pretty angry. You feel a slight tug on your arm. You look over your shoulder to see Joseph, crouching down behind Andrew and his massive shield, holding out a rag. He points at it and covers his mouth. Looks like he wants you to cover yours. But why?  


Not taking the time to guess, you limp closer and take the rag, quickly tying it around your face. Joseph pulls his cloak over his head, drawing the sides close. He then gently raps the plates on Andrew’s right leg, as if he were giving a signal.  


“Alright,” Andrew says, receiving Joseph’s message. “You leave me with no choice.”  


He quickly turns his head back towards the alleyway and yells. “NOW!”  


Suddenly, a white smoke begins billowing out from the dark crevice, flooding the street in an eerie fog.  


“What is thisss?” Mal hisses, her eyes glaring down at the three of you. “What are...you...trying to...p l a y…”  


Her words become more slurred, almost as if she’s becoming drowsy.  


“My, my,” you hear from behind you. “Look at all the new patients.” You look down the cloud-spewing alley to see the haunting visage of Master Sinoe emerge. He’s wielding what looks like a large watering can, pushing on a pump on it that seems to be dispensing the gas.  


He walks over to Wetzel, grabbing the man’s shoulder. Wetzel cries in pain as Sinoe inspects him before letting his body crumple back to the ground in a slump. Sinoe then glances over at the now slumbering Tug, his leg a swollen mess of black and purple lumps.  


“These two I reckon could do with a bit of surgery,” he says in a relishing tone. “And you, miss, you look like someone with an urgent case of...whatever. I’d recommend immediate remedy application, perhaps a humor balance, maybe shock therapy? Hmm?”  


Mal is too unresponsive to reply; she’s swaying more and more, a solid pillar of muscle about to come crashing down. Soon, her grip on Tiki loosens, and she slips toward the ground. Thanks to your makeshift mask, Sinoe’s sleeping gas has had little effect on you, and you hobble as fast as you can over to catch the fairy. She almost hits the ground before reach out under her, letting her land in your palms.  


Eventually, Mal falls in a heap, at which Andrew springs into action. You can already see him extracting Akita from his constricting prison, the poor boy knocked out by the gas (Given the state he’s in, it’s probably for the best). Soon, he’s carrying the sleeping lad in his arms, his shield affixed to his back again.  
But there’s no time for celebration. You hear more shouts coming from up the street. Looks like what the town calls security has finally decided to show up.  


“Fly, you fools!” Sinoe bellows, indicating for you to leave before the guard shows up.  


Not in any state for dealing with the local constabulary, you turn to run away. You hate the feeling, of retreating when you aren’t the bad guy, but you don’t think the guards of Platelet Town will be that understanding given the scale of the commotion. With Tiki gently in your grasp, you swallow your pride and keep running, your friends right behind you.


	4. Such Magic, Very Dog. Wow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You become acquainted with a VERY good boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya, anyone! I never thought people might read my story. Hope you all who read this before are still out there because here's another update! Again, please feel free to leave any comments you like.

It’s the next day after the fight, and you wake up to stiff muscles. It’s not an unfamiliar sensation. You’ve camped on the ground many times before, but you feel especially tired today. Looking down, you see you were sleeping in an unfamiliar room. Perhaps the worn wooden floorboards are to blame for your soreness.

You rub your head, remembering running through the streets of Platelet Town, and how Atticus lead you all to an inn. He said something about a favor from treating the owner’s criminal son once.  You find your stuff in a neat pile next to you. 

Wait, you don’t remember taking those off. 

You quickly look under the blanket covering you and are relieved to see you’re wearing your pants and undershirt. Atticus must have taken your armor off to better inspect your wound.

Speaking of wounds, you hardly feel any pain in your leg. You fling off the blanket and roll your pant leg up, revealing neat, clean bandages wrapped around your thigh, held securely by a pair of butterfly clasps.

A professional job. You remind yourself to compliment Atticus on his mad doctor skillz. 

You take the time cataloging the room around you. It’s typical of any backwater inn: the featureless walls bare a drab, lackluster paint-job while the floorboards are warped and gray from people trampling them. (You’re glad you weren’t stabbed by a splinter in your sleep!) There’s a single bed pushed into the corner (occupied, by the looks of it) with a small table beside it, a candle sitting on it. It’s unlit, given the constant sunlight creeping in through the dirty windows on the bedside wall. 

Seems everyone is sharing the room. Atticus’s massive shield is against the wall, his heavy armor peeking from under it and the crossbow Joseph used propped up next to it. Joseph himself is asleep in a rocking chair in the corner near the window, which moves back and forth as he snores softly. 

You flinch when the door in front of you creaks open, and Atticus saunters in carrying a tray of steaming food.

“Oh, you’re awake!” he says with an air of relief. “You’re quite the sleeper. Wasn’t sure when you’d get up.”

He walks over and places down the tray on the bedside table. (Nearly pushing off the candle in the process) You’re not tall enough to see what he’s brought. Judging from the several bowls, you wager it’s probably just porridge.

Atticus takes a bowl and spoon and crouches down to hand them to you. You confirm your suspicions that your breakfast is indeed porridge, a brown-cream colored soup that smells like it's been sweetened by maybe sugar or brandy.

“ _ Myah _ , is that food I smell?” Joseph begins stirring from his chair by the windowsill.

You tell him it is before taking in a spoon full. “Hope you like soft mush.”

“Soft mush will do more than nothing at all,” he replies, hands extending to receive his own meal from Atticus.

As the two of you start eating, Atticus sips a glass of milk he’s poured from a pitcher. He puts the glass down on the tray before reaching for his medical bag, hanging by its strap at the foot of the bed.

“Hey, how come I had to sleep on the floor?” you ask in mock frustration. “I took an arrow to the knee!”

“Mid-quadricep, actually, not your knee” Atticus corrects you, “and unlike our newest friend here, you didn’t have all of your internal organs squeezed into mush.”

Hearing the words ‘mush’ and ‘internal organs’ in the same sentence makes you feel a lot less hungry for your porridge. Standing up, you reach on your tiptoes to place your half-empty bowl onto the tray, before walking over to stand next Atticus.

Occupying the bed is the sleeping form of Akita. When Atticus peels away the white bedsheets, you realize the boy isn’t exactly who, or what, you thought he was. 

Without his robes and hat, you’re surprised to see Akita has a pair of black, fuzzy, triangular ears sprouting out a top of his head, his black hair juxtaposing with his pale skin. Matching-colored fur also stretches down his forearms to meet fur-covered hands, complete with adorable paw-pads.  He also lacks human feet, instead having dog-like leggies covered with fur, much like his forearms. 

“Alright,” says Atticus, removing his index and forefingers from against Akita’s temple (He must have been measuring his pulse). “Time to check the bruises he has on his back. Kim, a little help?”

Getting the message, you climb up on the bed, resting on your knees. Then, you grab Akita’s side and, with Atticus’s help, gently roll the dog-boy onto his side, revealing a curled and fluffy looking tail.

Unfortunately for the young doctor, his patient begins to stir, rolling right onto his back again. He winces from his unseen injuries, then opens his eyes.

Upon seeing he is almost naked in an unfamiliar room with an old man, a very short fae, and an otherwise normal-looking a human, his eyes turn to dinner plates. He scoots up the bed, trying to get away, but when he realizes he’s basically cornered, he curls defensively into a ball, tucking his tail between his legs.

“P-please, d-don’t hurt me!” he pleas.

You crawl up to the shivering ball of pup, reaching a hand up to gently pet one of his ears. It has to be the softest thing you’ve ever touched.

“Hey, guy, take it easy. It’s okay to be scared, I’d be too.” You pet Akita like an actual dog. You go on to say that it’s alright now and that those mean people from yesterday are gone.

Slowly, Akita stops shaking and lifts his head so he can see just over his kneecaps.

“R-really?” he stammers out, ears drooped and round eyes wet from tears.

This boy is too precious for this world.

“Yeah, you can relax,” says Atticus. “You’re safe here.”

With that, Akita stretches his legs back out and his arms fall.

“S-safe...here,” he mumbles. “Here...safe...here...w-where am I? W-who are you?”

You explain guards showed up after the fight, and not wanting to deal with them, you made a hasty retreat to this inn. You introduce Joseph and Atticus, saying they helped rescue him and his tiny blue girlfriend.

Akita chuckles softly. “That’s funny, but Tiki isn’t my...Tiki...oh my gosh, where’s Tiki?!” Akita begins visibly sweating with anxiety at the thought he lost his companion. “All I remember was her flying around, then g-getting c...c-crushed by that h-horrible…” He buries his head in his hands before he can finish.

“I’m right here, dummy,” you hear a familiar voice.

From the corner of your eye, a blue streak zips out from behind a pointy hat hanging from a hook on the wall before it stops to hover in front of Akita

“Tiki!” he says, rubbing his eyes. “I was so worried, I--”

Tiki interrupts him with a boop to the nose. “Not as much as you worried ME!” she screams. “You know how dangerous this town is! What possibly drove you to go out on your own?!”

Before Akita can answer, Tiki zips over to you. “And for your information, sister, I am Akita’s familiar, NOT his girlfriend.”

“Yeah, but I bet you wish you were,” you say, tauntingly.

Tiki’s face turns a shade of purple, her face furrowing. “Careful, Akita,” she says, retreating to hide behind one of his ears. “This one’s trouble!”

You laugh. Oh yeah, you think. She  _ totally _ wants him.

“Well, putting your teenage romance on hold,” says Joseph, finishing his bowl of porridge. “How about giving us an introduction, lad. It’s hard being friends with total strangers.”

Akita sighs, resting against the headboard. 

“My full name is Akita Doge, and as you can tell,” he says with a wiggle of his ears, “I’m a lycanthrope. I’m a practicing wizard’s apprentice, and Tiki and I were on a mission given by my master.” It’s then that his ears shoot up, and he sits bolt upright.

“Oh no, the mission!” he yells. “Tiki we have to go!”

“Akita, wait!” Tiki yells, but he’s already swung his legs out of the bed and getting up to retrieve his things.

Or, at least he would if he wasn’t frozen where he stands, grimacing with pain. “Oh, my...everything.”

“Take it easy there, Akita,” says Atticus, letting the boy lean on him for support. “You were nearly crushed to death by that naga yesterday. You’re lucky to be alive right now!”

“But...I have to finish my mission,” he says. “Master Coughonix will surely be disappointed in me.”

“Yes, he might be, at least at first,” says Atticus, helping Akita back into bed. “My teacher, Master Sinoe, would get upset when I failed assignments he gave me.” He lifts Akita’s legs up and over the side of the bed so he’s resting on his back again. 

“However,” he continues, fetching the last bowl of porridge. “He’d recognize sometimes circumstances were beyond my control, and it wasn’t always my fault. I’m sure your master will understand.” 

Akita sighs again. “I know he would, but he’s done so much for me.” He wraps his arms around himself. “He deserves an apprentice who can get stuff right.”

“Okay,” says Joseph, “I can see that you really look up to this Master…?” He swirls his hand questioningly.

“Coughonix,” Tiki chirps.

“Coughonix,” Joseph continues. “But what I think  _ you _ fail to see is how much he cares for you.” He puts his empty bowl on the windowsill. “I bet he prefers you’re safe than you return overexerted and injured after completing the mission.”

Atticus startles Akita when he places a bowl he’s holding into his lap. “Whatever you think, as a trained doctor I will not  allow you leaving my sight until you are better.”

You raise the problem with that; guards will be on the lookout for you. You think it’s best that you leave.

“But what about us?” asks Tiki. “You can’t expect me to take care of Akita by myself...” She trails off, seemingly forgetting the rest of her sentence.

You highly doubt she’d actually mind playing nurse, but you have to agree. You say you can’t see her as maternally capable enough doing it solo. She frowns at this.

“Then what do you suggest?” she asks.

Easy. You’ll take them all with you.

There’s a collective “What?” throughout the room.

You explain you’re still helping Joseph find out more on the orb. Perhaps Master Coughonix could help, too. Akita will show you the way and since Atticus seems capable of treating anybody anywhere, so he should come too. 

“Hmm,” says Akita between spoons of porridge. “Sounds okay.”

“You’re seriously letting total strangers talk you into this?” Tiki gawks. “Even after what happened yesterday?”

“Yes, well,” Akita says.  “I just don’t think I can really travel alone yet.” 

Tiki pouts. “Whatever,” she says before zipping back to the hat hanging on the wall.

Akita turns away from his fairy friend back to you. “I don’t know why she seems so upset. She’s usually pretty nice.”

You playfully roll your eyes at the boy’s naivety. You lie and say it’s nothing. 

“Anyways,” begins Joseph. “If I’m going anywhere, I’d like to know where this sanctuary is.”

“It’s up on the Copper Coast,” says Akita

You whistle. The Copper Coast, a name associated with beautiful vistas of cliffs, and LOTS of sand. That’s more than three days travel from here, more if on foot. Did he really walk that far to Platelet Town all by himself? Sounds pretty impressive.

Akita blushes. “I-it’s not that far. And I still had a lot of energy in me at the time.”

“Three days? On foot? That’s too far for someone with a severe case of old,” huffs Joseph.

“And for someone who’s still recovering from a fight,” Atticus adds, alluding to you and Akita.

Hey, you feel completely fine, all thanks to Atticus’s mad doctor skillz.

The Hospitaller seems unperturbed by your attempt at decisive flattery. “Don’t care, doctor’s orders,” he declares, planting his hands on his hips. “However, I think I have a solution.”

You ask what’s that.

Atticus snaps his fingers. “We need some wheels!”

* * *

 

You peek between the flaps of the covered wagon as you pass through the front gates of Platelet Town. Thanks to some favors from more trustworthy townsfolk, Atticus has been able to get you all smuggled out in a cart drawn by one of his neighbors.

The four (and ½) of you hardly fit inside the cart crammed full with your stuff. 

“When can you get out to drive?” you hiss angrily at Atticus.

“Not until we’re out of sight,” he replies. “Just hold on.”

‘Holding on’ lasts for another 30 minutes, and you’re contemplating a homicide with a dash of grand-theft auto. But to everyone’s relief, Atticus says, “Okay Jasper, we’ll take the reins from now on.”

There’s a grunt from up front, and shifting as the current driver disembarks the small bench up front. “Hope you finds what you’re looking fors, Atticus.”

“Thanks, and say bye to Master Sinoe for me,” he replies as he makes his way to the front of the cart.

“M’kay. See ya’,” says Jasper.

The cart then begins moving again down the road, and you lean out the back to wave farewell to the short man who helped you. He waves back as he shrinks into the distance, his shape disappearing behind the crest a hill.

Not wanting to sit in the cramped wagon any longer, you weasel your way up to where Atticus’s now sitting at the front, sitting down next to the new man at the reins.

You lean over to him, asking if he knows the horse.

“What kind of question is that?” he answers.

My question, you reply, and you want an answer.

He huffs. “No, not really. I’m afraid I spent most of my apprenticeship working, not hanging with animals.”

Jeez, you say. No need for him to get defensive and shit. You sit in silence for a few moments.

“Sugar.”

“Hm?” Atticus says.

You say the horse’s name is now Sugar.

Atticus stares at you for a moment. “Okay, just because I don’t know the horse personally, doesn’t mean that it doesn’t have a name. You’ll be happy to know--”

Nope, don’t care. You are the leader of this adventure, so you name the horse. Ergo, the horse’s name is Sugar.

Atticus smirks and focuses back on driving. “Alright. Giddyup, Sugar.”

The horse neighs with impeccable comedic timing, making you laugh as you’re drawn towards the long treeline of the forest.

This is going to  _ fun. _

#  ****


	5. Beasts Abound!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your party encounters something in the woods...something dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, where are these chapters coming from all of a sudden? It's almost like this account was forgotten but the story kept going... (As usual, feel free to leave comments!)

Nearing the second day’s end, everyone shows signs of fatigue after long hours of sitting. However, not all of you are complaining; Akita is certainly better, saying his muscle soreness is virtually gone. Besides that, you all can agree it might be a good idea at least stop and stretch a bit. 

Atticus pulls the reins, signaling for Sugar to slow down. The horse is hesitant at first, but a few tugs and a “Good girl” get her to eventually stop along the side of the dirt strip cutting through the woods.

Getting down from the front seat, Atticus walks around the back, fetching some oats for Sugar. Being too short to get down up front, you crawl back through the wagon and jump out from the rear, helping Joseph get down afterward.

“I say, while it’s good to not have to walk to the Copper Coast,” he says, cracking his back with a ‘ _ Myah!’  _ “It’s nice to stand and...exercise a bit.”

“Yes,” says Akita, lowering himself from the back of the wagon. “My muscles might get sore again from  _ not _ moving!”

You chuckle, finally getting a survey of where you’ve stopped your caravan. 

The forest is particularly dense here and very dark. While you know that twilight is fast approaching, the lack of any underbrush or shrubbery indicates light hardly penetrates through the thick canopy of sturdy pine trees surrounding you.

Standing there as the light disappears beyond the horizon, you feel a strange, uncomfortable sensation. There’s a haunting, seemingly dead atmosphere, but you can’t tell exactly why.

“You sense it too, don’t you?” says Joseph, leaning over. He lifts a wrinkled finger to his bearded face, a quiet hush escaping his lips.

You try your best to listen, even cupping your ears to hear better. You don’t hear anything.

“Exactly,” Joseph says coldly. “Nothing. No squirrels. No birdsongs. Not even wind rustling the trees. Isn’t that weird?”

It is weird, and very off-putting. Joseph’s observation stirs your brain. Now you know the sensation you keep feeling. 

It’s the feeling of being stalked.

“Yeah,” Atticus agrees. “I’m starting to think maybe Sugar was trying to tell us something.”

You can’t help saying that maybe you should decamp. But before Atticus can respond, you hear a sound of alarm coming from the other side of the cart.

“Hey guys,” you hear Akita call. “I think you need to see this.”

The three of you look at each other. Without a word, Atticus hauls himself into the wagon, quickly retrieving your weapons. Handing over your dagger and Joseph his crossbow, he picks up his helmet and shield, following you and Joseph into the forest.

You find Akita standing not too far from the road in front of a tree, looking at the ground. Tiki is hovering above him, emanating a light blue glow lighting up the forest floor. He turns when he hears you coming.

“When we stopped, I heard a dripping sound from over here after I got out. Thinking it was a spring, I thought I could refill our canteens.” He gestures at the pair of canisters in his furred hands. 

And?

“Well,” he says, nervously. “Let’s just say we shouldn’t drink this.”

Confused, you walk around him to better see his discovery.

A dark liquid trickles down the tree’s trunk, puddling at the base in a muddy pool curdled thick with muck and pine needles. 

“That mud disturbs me,” says Joseph.

“Its smell is much worse,” adds Akita, pinching his nose.

Not having the lycan’s superior sense of smell, you crouch a little and inhale a good bit before almost retching from the repugnant odor. It’s a burning, metallic scent like rusted iron.

Iron.

“Blood,” you whisper, maintaining your composure as best you can.

“Why is there a puddle of mud-blood out here in the middle of a forest?” asks Joseph. He glances around, clearly on edge. “Shouldn’t the soil soak it up?”

“I’ve got a clue,” says Atticus, deadpan of emotion. “Tiki, can you shine up this tree a bit?”

Tiki obliges, and flies higher, before stopping with a gasp.

You couldn’t have noticed it before in the darkness, but now you can see the tree doesn’t extend into the canopy. No, instead, what you see is  _ far _ more gruesome: staring from above behind glassy, lifeless eyes is a massive moss-bear. The forest’s apex predator, the sheer weight of the butchered, bloodstained carcass impales it down around the tree-trunk, forcibly gaping its jaws wide open in a final expression of ferocious emotion. The top of the tree protrudes as a bloody, splintered mess through its hindquarters.

“Oh dear lord,” says Joseph, looking up at the grizzly effigy. “What could have done this?”

“I know,” Atticus says, donning his helmet and readying his shield. “Everybody, make your way back to the cart. We are leaving  _ NOW _ . No running, no more speaking, and do not look around. Keep your eyes focussed towards the road.”

You all slowly advance back towards the road, walking like every step is on broken glass. The air is tense and thick with danger. You definitely feel it now;  _ something _ is hunting you.

You finally make it after what feels like hours crawling back to the cart. Boosting Joseph up into the back first, he raises his crossbow, keeping an eye out while you and Akita crawl inside. It’s then you realize Sugar is untethered from the cart, and you make silent, albeit frantic movements for Atticus to do something. He’s reaching for the ropes when Joseph mutters something that chills your bones. 

“Something’s coming.”

Head exiting from the flaps you peer out, not seeing anything at first. Then, you see a shadow in the night, a shape hidden amongst the trees. It creeps along slowly, and it’s only getting closer to the wagon.

You dash to toss Atticus Sugar’s reigns, but it’s already too late. You, Joseph, and Akita are thrown unceremoniously from the wagon as it’s flipped over. There’s a crunch as the covered framework gives, spilling the remaining cargo onto the ground.

Spooked by the sudden commotion, Sugar rears, letting a terrified whinny, and bolts off into the night. Well shit, there goes your transport! But there’s no time to dwell on that now. Something’s attacking your posse, and it’s your job to shove your infuriated boot right up its ass!

You bounce up, your blade unsheathed. Head spinning around, you try sensing where the beast is. How is something big enough to roll the cart be so god-damn stealthy?!

“Where is it?” Joseph yells, blindly waving his crossbow. “I can’t see anything!”

“Tiki, flash!” you hear Akita from your right. Suddenly, the air erupts with a “Crack!” and blue light cascades all around.

Within this moment, you catch a pair of reflective, yellow orbs hanging within the trees on your left. You yell, swinging your sword toward the shadow. 

Atticus quickly rushes beside you, baring his shield for cover as Joseph fires a bolt over your heads.

There’s a whoosh of air as a massive figure leaps from the forest, showering branches down as it sails over you and onto the other side of the road.

Picking up a fallen stick, Akita flicks it, shouting in an unintelligible tongue. Sparks suddenly streak from his impromptu wand toward the beast. It ducks, the balls of energy soaring behind it, setting the forest behind it ablaze. Its cover by darkness blown, your attacker is finally in clear view. 

You’ve never seen anything like it: looking like some giant big cat, its muscular body stands well over 8 feet tall. A true colossus. Around its feline face is a bushy, unkempt mane, while what appears to be large scales blanket its chest. Wait, those aren’t scales, they’re shields! The beast has crudely woven dozens of them together, making a patchwork chestpiece big enough for its size.

What parts aren’t covered by armor are carpeted in what looks like gray fur with dark rings. The pattern continues down the creatures long furry tail, though you doubt complimenting it will keep it from killing you with those meathooks on the ends of its cat-like mitts. 

It lets out a guttural roar, provoking Joseph to raise his crossbow again and let loose another arrow. The bolt flies through the air, but the creature simply swats it away like a fly. It glowers at him, its yellow irises locking onto the old man.

“Oh no,” Joseph gasps, his face frozen with a look of horror. 

You act quickly, leaping from behind the safety of Atticus’s shield, sprinting full tilt at the creature. “Kim, no!” Atticus shrieks. Ignoring him, you search for your opportunity as you run at what could be certain doom.

When it pounces, you rush under it, seeing your window when its tail droops close enough to the ground. You jump, yanking the tail down as you firmly plant your feet into the ground. 

With power from your magic ring supercharging your blood, you find the incredible strength to viciously pull the creature’s tail, causing it to land right at Joseph’s feet, missing him by inches. It rears around its head to strike you a furious glare.

“Got your number, bastard,” you say with an air of bravado. 

The creature only grins, exposing interlocking rows of wicked sharp canines. Not the reaction you were expecting, but you guess it just doesn’t see the world of hurt you’ll be sending its way soon. Yet before you can do anything, you hear Atticus yell from behind the beast you.

“Kim, let go of the fucking tail, NOW!”

What…?

Suddenly, the sting of hundreds of hot nails being driven through your skin racks your arms. You scream like you never have before, releasing the monster’s tail as you stagger back to look down at your arms.

Up and down your arms are hundreds of spines, each about 2 inches long. They’ve pierced through your armor, probably injecting you with some sort of venom as they sink into your flesh. You drop your sword as your fingers become too stiff to grasp the handle and collapse to the ground. “Kim!” someone yells, too hurt to identify who.

Through the deep bodily pain, you see the creature rise, giving off what sounds like a deep chuckle. It then utters the two scariest words you will probably ever hear for the rest of you now considerably shorter lifespan.

“DEAD. MEAT.”

It turns and pounces on you. You make peace with your god and shut eyes.

Yet death doesn’t come. Instead, the sound of flesh against metal shakes the air. You open your eyes to see Atticus, shield raised, slam into the beast with the force of a hammer to an anvil. He sends the creature reeling, so much Joseph must leap out of the way to avoid getting crushed when it falls.

Yet Atticus shows zero signs of stopping. He lunges at the creature, bringing his shield down on its chest, knocking the wind out of it. The man shows no remorse, using one of the shield’s ends to repeatedly bash against the makeshift platemail until the beast’s roars of pain sound eerily like cries for mercy.

With your last reserve of strength, you prop on your elbows and slug towards Atticus. It hurts like hell, but you get close enough to reach up and tug at his leg.

Hey, I think that’s enough, you say. 

Atticus’s head spins, his shield mid-descent. In front of you is not the normally calm and collective medic. He is a man driven by an instinct to survive, eyes bulging and teeth bared in a predatory grimace. If looks could kill, you’d be dead.

You drop your hand, frightened by the sight. It takes a moment, but you can see something click inside Atticus’s head, and he gently puts his shield down.

“Sorry *huff* you all had to *wheeze* see that,” he apologizes between breaths of air. He stands up, turning around to walk over to the upturned cart. 

“Akita, you know a sleeping spell?” Atticus asks as he passes him, beginning to rummage through the debris.

Akita nods his head. “One. Master Coughonix taught me some defensive--”

“Good,” Atticus says, curtly interrupting him. Don’t have enough tranquilizers to keep that thing down. Do me a favor and knock it out?” 

“Hey,” says Tiki, flying up to Atticus. “Don’t be so mean to Akita!”

A glare is all Atticus needs to shut the fairy up, who zips back over to her equally quieted master. Atticus sighs.

“Sorry guys,” he apologizes again, sounding more disappointed with himself than angry. He finally pulls out his medical bag from the wreck, looking down at the red cross embroidered across the brown canvas. Sighing again, he turns around and eventually crouching down next to you. He pulls out a syringe and a brown bottle with a rubber cap, his hands shaking a little.

You ask if he’s okay.

He looks up, breathing in and out, letting his hands steady before sinking the needle through the elastic stopper, extracting a mint green liquid from within. “Honestly no, but I bet you feel a lot worse.”

You chuckle, though you’re still frightened by what you’ve seen.

He pulls back the needle and holds it up. “This will knock you out for a bit, ‘kay? It’ll make pulling all these out,” he says pointing at the needles, “a lot easier.”

With a confirming nod from you,  Atticus lifts his hand up to cradle your head before injecting the needle into your neck, pushing the plunger down. 

Your vision immediately goes blurry. Your eyes flutter, and you black out.

* * *

 

 

When you wake up, the morning (Afternoon?) sunshine hits your face, blinding you for a split second. After you let your eyes adjust, you do a body check, remembering the scrap you got into yesterday.  You see your arms wrapped in bandages of familiar craftsmanship, though a bit more constraining than the one you had on your leg. They feel as heavy as bricks.

Looking down at the rest of yourself, you also see that you’ve been resting on a sleeping roll salvaged from the cart ruins. 

Oh shit, the cart!

Your head swivels around to see the wreck of the cart, still upside down, though propped up with a broken timber. Your companions are busy salvaging as much as they can. Even Tiki is helping carry loose odds and ends, contributing to the pile of stuff on the side of the road.

Clutching a box, Akita notices you’re awake. “Kim!” he yells, dropping what he’s carrying and racing over to you. “Atticus!” He calls back to the cart. “Kim’s up!”

The Hospitaller emerges from the wreck and walks over before sitting down next to you. “And how’s little miss pin-cushion today?” he asks with a playful smirk. 

You wish you could punch him, but you restrain from throwing any. Fine, you reply.

“I’m surprised you can say that,” says Atticus. “The amount of poison our friend injected into you should have sent you into fatal paralytic shock. I can’t explain it, and I honestly don’t care so long as you’re alive. It’s like someone’s writing a story and keeping you alive on purpose!”

You chuckle, stopping when your brain actually begins picking apart what you just heard. Pushing aside the existential shit about an unseen entity controlling every moment of your existence thus eliminating the concept of free will, your mind zones in on the words ‘our friend’.

“Atticus, where’s the thing that hit us last night?”

Atticus looks away from you.

“Atticus...”

He rubs the back of his head before pointing  over your shoulder 

Turning your head around, you’re shocked when you realize you’ve been sleeping next to the monster, its giant mass now propped against a tree. First Master Sinoe, now this? You really ought to have your peripheral vision checked out!

“Why was I sleeping next to it, Atticus?!”

The man throws up his hands. “It was convenient at the time! You had, like, a million poisonous needles in your arms, she had broken ribs! I needed to perform emergency surgery on both of you!”

Back up, this thing’s a  _ she _ ?! You look up next to the sleeping giant, then back at Atticus. How the FUCK does he know that?!

This gets the doctor to blush. He promptly turns around, walking back to the cart and continuing to salvage from it. 

“Atticus!” you whine, with no response.

“He told us she’s a manticore,” says Akita, couching down. “And one a long way from home too.”

A manticore?! You try to stand up, but your arms are still stiff and a tad unresponsive, so you nearly topple over. Luckily, Akita helps you get your balance, but you’re soon on your feet and walking over to the ruined wagon. Inside is Joseph, bring the last of the boxes out. It looks like Atticus is on the other side, inspecting the wagon’s chassis.

Atticus, why the hell did he give medical attention to the thing that nearly killed you all last night?!

Atticus’s head snaps back around. There’s that look, the one from yesterday. Jeez, it’s just as terrifying when he’s not straddling a monster and beating it within an inch of its life.

Recoiling, you quietly apologize for your sudden frantic behavior. Atticus’s stare softens. “Look, I’ll explain everything later. We’re gonna be stuck here for another day, at least, but don’t worry about that.” He leans over and ruffles your hair, your mind still uneased.

“Now, I hope your arms aren’t too stiff! Help us go through what we’ve salvaged.”

#  ****


End file.
